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Kim hadn't been able to get ahold of Jimmy, but she didn't let it get to her. She finished her cigarette, put her phone away, and headed back upstairs to her office to dive back into work.
Kim's goal these days was crystal clear: grind hard, close more cases, and fight to make partner at HHM within three or four years.
In the original timeline of the show, if it weren't for Jimmy's influence—first getting her punished by Howard, then slowly drawing out her darker side—Kim likely would have stayed on the straight and narrow path right to the end... even if that path went against her true nature.
But honestly, people don't always need to be too self-aware.
Living with too much clarity is exhausting, and usually, it doesn't lead to a happy ending.
After hammering through paperwork for about half an hour, Kim checked the time. She figured the Kettlemans—Betsy and Craig—had probably finished lunch and were free, so she gave them a call.
The couple had come to HHM yesterday. Howard took the case and handed the grunt work over to Kim.
The call connected quickly.
After wailing on the phone for nearly an hour, Betsy and Craig had finally calmed down and were currently rushing over to HHM.
"We'll be there soon. We need to talk," Betsy said.
"Okay," Kim replied, hanging up. She immediately stood up and walked briskly downstairs to meet them in the lobby.
Craig's embezzlement case wasn't going to bring HHM a ton of money, but because of the intense public interest, it offered a lot of prestige. For a major firm in Albuquerque—and New Mexico as a whole—reputation was everything. Reputation attracted clients, and clients brought cash.
Kim waited in the lobby for about ten minutes before Betsy and Craig finally appeared.
Soon, the three of them were seated in a conference room.
After some brief pleasantries, Kim started to outline the progress of the case and her legal advice...
But before she could finish, Betsy cut her off. "Kim, wait. We have a question."
Kim didn't think much of it and nodded. "Okay, go ahead."
Betsy looked at her with total seriousness. "You're our lawyer. Everything we say is confidential, right?"
"Yes, absolutely," Kim replied.
"Good." Betsy looked relieved and started talking. "Last night, our money was stolen. Do you know how we can get it back?"
"????" Kim was startled. She stared at Betsy for two seconds, trying to process this. "Your money? You mean the 1.6 million dollars?"
Betsy nodded heavily. "Yes! That money! Craig worked his fingers to the bone for that money! And some son of a bitch stole it last night!"
Worked his fingers to the bone?
Okay.
Well, "hard work" wasn't entirely wrong. Stealing that much cash is physically demanding.
Kim had suspected yesterday that this couple was a little unhinged. Now, she was certain of it. She felt a headache coming on. "I'm a lawyer," she said carefully. "I can't help with that kind of thing. You need to go to the police... or a private investigator."
Hearing this, Betsy immediately turned to Craig. "I told you we should have gone to a private investigator."
Craig, being the total pushover he was, just nodded. "Right, right."
"We'll go find one later," Betsy said decisively, then turned back to Kim. "So, since our money was stolen, we don't need a lawyer anymore, right? It's pointless for the county to prosecute us now, isn't it?"
Kim: "??????"
It was rare to see delusion on this level.
Kim's headache intensified. She frowned, taking a moment to organize her words. "Actually, based on what you're telling me—that the money is gone—your trouble just got a whole lot worse."
"What do you mean?" Betsy didn't get it. "The money is gone. What trouble could we have? If the county wants the money, they should go find the thief. Why come after us?"
Kim: "????"
This was absolutely off the rails.
Kim took a deep breath. "Betsy, here is the reality of the situation. The county and the District Attorney are convinced that Craig stole that money."
"If the money was still here, we could try to negotiate a plea deal—return the funds in exchange for a reduced sentence."
"If the money is gone, there is no deal. The DA will push for the maximum sentence."
Betsy truly didn't understand, her eyes going wide. "Why? Craig didn't steal it..."
---
About fifteen minutes later.
The meeting ended with zero progress.
Kim kept a polite smile plastered on her face as she escorted the delusional couple out of the HHM building. Only when she saw Betsy's car drive away did she drop the smile and let out a long, helpless sigh.
What a pair of weirdos.
Muttering silently, Kim turned around, went back inside, and headed to Howard's office to report the latest "development."
---
Dexter hadn't been idle either. He drove his second-hand Toyota Corolla around until he found the upholstery shop owned by Nacho's dad.
Nacho's father ran a legitimate business doing car interiors.
It was a perfect cover. This used Corolla really did need some interior work, so his presence was completely logical.
Dexter pulled around to the side of the shop, got out, and walked in.
Nacho's dad greeted him warmly. Unfortunately, there was a language barrier, and communication was a struggle.
So, the father called out to the back. "Son, come talk to this customer. See what he needs."
Nacho nodded, playing the role of the dutiful son. He walked out, quickly scanning Dexter while forcing a small, polite smile. "Hi there. What can I help you with?"
Dexter smiled back. "I've got a Corolla outside. The steering wheel and seats are pretty beat up. I'm looking to get them reupholstered."
"Okay. Is the car outside?" Nacho didn't spot anything suspicious yet.
"Yeah," Dexter replied.
Nacho turned to his dad to explain, then grabbed a book of leather swatches. "Let's go take a look."
The two men walked out to Dexter's car.
Looking at the Corolla—which was genuinely beat up and old—Nacho immediately felt something was off. He subconsciously glanced back at the shop to make sure his dad hadn't followed them. His expression instantly turned cold as he looked at Dexter. "I'm going to be honest with you. This car isn't worth the cost of a reupholstery job. Save your money and buy a new one."
Dexter knew Nacho was suspicious. He gave a faint smile. "You think so? This car has been with me for a long time. I'd hate to get rid of it."
"Maybe it's time to move on."
"Thanks for the advice. I'll get out of your hair then."
Nacho nodded, remaining silent as he stepped aside.
Dexter got in the car and drove off at a leisurely pace.
Nacho stood there, watching quietly, and memorized the license plate number.
Just then, his father walked out, looking confused. "What happened? Why did he leave?"
Nacho slipped back into his good-son persona, lying effortlessly. "He thought it would be cheap. Once he heard the price, he took off."
His dad looked at the dilapidated Corolla and figured that made sense, so he didn't ask any more questions.
A moment later, father and son went back inside.
After a short while, Nacho made up an excuse to leave the shop. He needed to run a check on Dexter.
He was certain the guy was trouble. And the fact that he had found this shop...
He had to figure out who Dexter was.
---
Dexter lit a cigarette and cruised slowly toward the courthouse, thinking about Comrade Nacho.
In the original show, Nacho wasn't exactly a saint, but relatively speaking, he was better than the rest.
Nacho was ruthless, smart, and capable.
In the end, he was ruthlessly used and discarded by Gus Fring—the Chicken Man—and met a tragic end. Honestly, it was a pity.
Dexter thought Nacho was talent worth recruiting.
In fact, compared to Mike, who was equally capable and smart, Dexter preferred Nacho.
The reason was simple.
Comrade Mike had too many principles. For someone like Dexter, that was annoying.
Nacho, on the other hand, was much more flexible...
As for any gaps in Nacho's ability or intelligence? That's what Dexter was there for. With a little guidance at the critical moments, he could mold him.
Lost in thought, Dexter arrived at the courthouse parking lot booth.
Mike had recognized Dexter and his car seconds before he pulled up. The old man's eyes twitched slightly, his expression grave, but he stayed silent. He simply pressed the button to raise the gate as per protocol.
Dexter didn't say anything either. He just gave Mike a light smile and drove into the lot.
After parking, Dexter walked straight into the courthouse.
Places like this were always short on public defenders.
Except for fresh law school grads, any lawyer who could actually land paying clients wouldn't touch public defense work. The pay was peanuts, and you had to deal with broke criminals who couldn't afford their own counsel.
One case, seven hundred bucks... for days of work, dealing with all sorts of freaks.
Unless they had no choice, nobody wanted to do it.
But Dexter was willing.
He treated it like a game. Besides, didn't broke criminals have friends?
Actually, most broke criminals had lots of friends. And naturally, those friends were usually criminals too.
So... Ding-dong.
They were all potential clients.
Long story short, Dexter quickly and successfully registered as a contract public defender—part-time, of course, not full-time.
And the moment he registered, he was handed a case.
He opened the file.
Oh boy. Public lewdness and narcotics possession.
Exciting stuff.
"I'll take it," Dexter said with a smile.
The clerk, looking like their soul had died years ago, told him which holding cell the three defendants were in.
Dexter didn't mind the clerk's attitude.
Civil servants were the same in every country—acting like miserable jackasses.
Why should a normal person get angry at a jackass?
It wasn't worth dragging himself down to that level.
"Thanks," he said with a grin, tossing the file under his arm as he walked toward the cells to meet his three new clients.